Innocent Promises
by RamblingDuck
Summary: What if Voldemort's soul was never torn completely from his body that Halloween night? Weak and dying, Voldemort used the last of his magic to flee the Wizarding World. Six years later people begin disappearing again. Can Harry survive in this new world?


Disclaimer: I obviously don't own Harry Potter or make any money off of this.

_What if Voldemort's soul was never torn completely from his body that dark Halloween night? Weak and dying, Voldemort used the last of his magic to flee the Wizarding World. Six years later people begin disappearing and an entirely new reign of terror begins, one where the enemy is unseen and everyone is suspect. Can Harry Potter survive in this new world?_

Chapter 1

Harry Potter's feet pounded on the sidewalk as he tore down the street. Dudley's gang was close behind him as he darted around a corner and forced his legs to speed up. Even though Dudley was fat and couldn't run very fast, most of his friends could. Although they didn't catch him very often, it did happen every once in a while and when it did it was awful.

Today was looking to be one of those days. The Dursleys hadn't fed him in two days, and since it was summer he didn't have the lucky break of the school lunch. Because of that he could feel himself running out energy fast and against his will he started slowing down. He darted into an alley hoping that he was far enough ahead that they wouldn't see it. Unfortunately he wasn't and a few seconds later they came panting into the alley.

"Got you now Pothead" Piers taunted as Dudley came in behind them panting and trying to catch his breath.

Harry looked around for something, anything, that could help him get out of this. He had run into a dead end and there was nothing here except for a dumpster and a lot of garbage. Backing away as they advanced, he found himself wishing he wasn't there. It was his 8th birthday today and even though there wasn't going to be any type of celebration; it would be nice to not get beaten up. He bumped into the rough brick wall behind him and closed his eyes, imagining his cupboard and wishing he were there. Even though he hated being locked up in there, it was also his safe place. No one could hurt him in there. Dudley didn't even bother him when he was there.

A second later he felt a weird tightness around his chest and the air was pressed out of his lungs. His eyes flew open, wondering what they had done to him and he was shocked to see the inside of his cupboard. He looked around wildly, wondering if he had been dreaming or something. Could he be hallucinating from lack of food? He nervously sat down on his cot and tried to figure out what had happened and how mad the Durselys would be if he hadn't been dreaming, which he didn't think he was. It had been way too realistic and this wasn't the first time weird things had happened around him. Nothing that could compare to this of course, but weird none the less.

He was still sitting there trying to figure it out when Dudley came bursting through the front door yelling, "Mom! Dad! Harry did something freaky again!"

He ran his hands through his hair, they were going to _kill_ him.

At least he knew he hadn't been dreaming.

OoOoOoO

A week later he left the house for the first time since the incident. After the initial disbelief, Vernon had ripped him out of his cupboard and started yelling about he was just like his parents. He had never seen Uncle Vernon so mad and had been scared he would hit him. He was actually relieved when he got shoved back into his cupboard. After a week of only one meal a day however, he was pretty sure he would have rather been hit.

Turning down the sidewalk toward the park, Harry was so lost in thought that he didn't notice the black cloaked figure in front of him until it spoke.

"Well, well. If it isn't little Potter," the man said. Harry came to a stop in shock, surprised that this strangely dressed man knew his name.

"um, yeah," he said, backing away a little. The guy was creepy and Harry couldn't even see his face beneath the cloak.

"We've been looking for you for a while now," the man slowly started walking toward Harry, "It took half a year until you performed enough magic to pick up on the sensors."

"Magic?" he squeaked, his mind whirring. Was this a joke? Was that what he did the other day? If it was, were other people that could do it? Maybe he wasn't a freak like the Dursleys loved to tell him.

"What? The filthy muggles didn't tell you?" the man spat, starting to circle Harry.

"Muggles?" Harry repeated, forgetting his fear in the confusion. He wanted to question the guy, but at the same time he felt he should be turning and running right now.

"Yes Muggles, you idiot. The filthy scum you live with," the man sneered back. He pulled a stick of wood out from somewhere and pointed it at Harry.

"What are you doing? How do you know my name?" Harry questioned frantically. He didn't know what the stick was, but the fact that it was pointing at him wasn't a good sign.

"I'm taking you to The Dark Lord now," he said impatiently, "We were starting to believe the sensors were broken when you didn't leave the house for a week and my lord is getting impatient,"

Harry started backing away quickly. He wanted to run, but didn't think it smart to turn his back on the man with the stick, "You have the wrong person," he said shakily.

"We have the right person, Harry Potter," he started stalking forward, covering the ground between them faster than Harry thought possible, "You can't run and you can't hide," he hissed before raising the stick again.

Harry stared at the tip of the stick and continued backing away, thoroughly freaked out. Suddenly, the man waved the stick and said a strange word, stupefy? A red light shot out of the end of the stick and Harry ducked, falling to the ground. It missed his head by an inch and he landed heavily on his elbow. He rolled to the side and stood quickly. He started backing up again, trying to get away as quickly as possible without turning his back on the guy. He had no idea what would happen if the red light hit him, but it couldn't be good.

"Potter," the man growled. "_stupefy_"

Another red light shot toward him, but he was more prepared this time and dodged it easily. He knew he had to get away quickly, one of these times the light was going to hit him. Could he make himself appear in his cupboard again? He tried to remember what he had done the first time, but he couldn't remember doing anything special. He had just been wishing he was there. Maybe that was it?

He scrambled out of the way of another light, purple this time, and decided to try it. He started repeating in his head 'I wish I were in my cupboard' like a mantra, but nothing was happening.

"Stop moving," the man said impatiently, "Just let me hit you, you can't dodge me forever and there's nowhere to go,"

Panicking a little, Harry continued the mantra in his head uselessly. "Why do you want _me_?" he questioned.

The man responded with a flurry of lights and Harry only managed to avoid them with pure luck. He remembered that he had had his eyes closed when he was trapped in the alley, but really didn't want to close his eyes right now. He heard a door close somewhere behind him and made the mistake of glancing back. By the time he turned his head back toward the man, he was hit by one of the lights. Pain exploded everywhere and fell to the ground. He heard himself screaming, but couldn't bring himself to stop. White lights started dancing behind his eyes until when what felt like hours later, but was probably only seconds, the pain stopped.

Harry lay on the ground panting and shaking, too exhausted to stand.

"Don't worry Potter, that's only the beginning," the man taunted cruelly, walking over to stand above him.

Harry closed his eyes, accepting his fate. He couldn't run now no matter how much he wanted to. At least he didn't have to see the Dursleys anymore and they couldn't lock him in his cupboard if he was dead. He might miss his cupboard a little though. It was the only thing he had that was his. He pictured his little cot in the cupboard and tried to pretend he was still laying in bed and dreaming instead of lying on the street with that cruel man above him. Deciding to give it one last shot, he repeated in his head, 'I wish I were in my cupboard' and pictured himself there. He could almost feel his bed underneath him, with its broken springs digging into his back.

He _could_ feel the springs digging into his back. His eyes flew open and he found himself staring in shock at the ceiling of his cupboard.

'It worked' he though, smiling, as he felt exhaustion pull him under.

OoOoOoO

Harry glared down at the man cowering on the floor, "You idiot," he spat, "How hard is it to capture an 8 year old boy who doesn't even know about magic?"

"_Crucio_" Harry hissed and felt satisfaction as the man started screaming in pain, writhing on the cold stone floor. He held it for a few minutes, relishing the feeling of power before he was forced to stop the spell before the man's mind broke.

After a few seconds of the man trembling he said sharply, "Explain,"

"I'm sorry, my lord," the man picked himself up to a kneeling position and bowed shakily, "The boy apparated away before I could stun him,"

"He apparated?" Harry said in shock. The boy was more powerful than he thought. "Take Crabbe and Goyle and watch the boy's house. He doesn't know about the magical world yet, Dumbledore wants to keep him hidden. If he's in the house he has to come out eventually and if he's not he will probably try to go back. Right now the wards stop us from entering, but I am working on bringing them down as we speak,"

"Do not mess up this time," Harry warned, "The only reason you are still alive is because you are still useful,"

"_Crucio,_" he hissed one last time as a warning to make sure his plans were carried out properly.

OoOoOoO

Harry was jerked out of his dream by a large hand shaking his shoulder violently. He heard someone screaming and started to panic before realizing it was himself and stopped. As he laid there panting and shaking, he wondered what that had been. That was the man from the street earlier who had tried to capture him.

"What the bloody hell are you doing, boy?" Uncle Vernon yelled in his face, "Trying to wake up the whole bloody neighborhood?"

"Sorry, weird dream," he said, still trying to figure it out. He had been the one torturing the man, he had _enjoyed_ it.

"What are you doing sleeping in the middle of the day? I thought we let you out of here earlier," Uncle Vernon said suspiciously.

Harry wasn't sure whether to tell his Uncle the truth of not, he probably wouldn't believe him anyway, "There was a man outside, I think he was trying to kidnap me," he finally said, avoiding the question of how he ended up in his cupboard sleeping.

"Kidnap you?" Uncle Vernon repeated, seemingly unsure whether to believe him or not. His Uncle could probably care less if he were kidnapped, but if _Dudley_ were in danger…

"What did he look like?" he asked after a minute.

"He was wearing a black robe-thing," Harry started, unsure how to describe the weird clothes, "He had a hood on, so I couldn't really see much of his face,"

Harry watched, confused, as Uncle Vernon paled, his face turning from his angry red, to normal, and then finally to a pale greenish color. Did his Uncle know who this guy was? His Uncle suddenly stood and walked quickly away from him, yelling for his aunt.

"Wait!" Harry said, "Do you know who he is?" His Uncles reaction seemed too weird for it to just be a stranger.

Uncle Vernon just gave him a weird look and said, "Stay there," and started talking in a lower voice to Petunia, who also paled. He couldn't hear what they were saying though, so he thought back to his dream.

Harry had seen it through the eyes of another man, which was just weird. He couldn't really remember what they were talking about, something about a boy and apprating, and wards? The one man was the one who tried to kidnap him though; did that mean he was the boy in the conversation? He tried to remember the details of the conversation, but the memory escaped him.

"The boy should leave," He heard Uncle Vernon say louder as they started arguing. Harry started listening in now that he could hear them and wondered what they were going to do.

"Where would he go? No matter how much I hate having him here, we were supposed to protect him," Aunt Petunia was arguing for him, which was surprising considering he sometimes thought she hated him more than Uncle Vernon.

"What if they come here to find him? Dudley could get hurt," Uncle Vernon was turning red again, "He's leaving,"

Harry started to get a little nervous, what would happen if they actually made him leave? He had nowhere to go and that man was out there, possible looking for him.

"Those freaks told us that as long as he stayed here we were protected, some kind of freaky thing they did, wards or something," Aunt Petunia said. She seemed to hate talking about it and cringed when she said 'wards' as if it were unforgivable.

There was that word again, 'wards'. He felt like there was something important he was forgetting, but he didn't know what.

He watched as Uncle Vernon turned beet red before spitting out, "fine," and going to sit on the couch. As Harry thought about Aunt Petunias last sentence he realized that she knew something. She knew something about this magic thing, that was why she always called him a freak. Anger rushed through him as he realized that she was hiding it from him.

"You know about it." He said angrily, crawling out of his open cupboard toward her, "You knew this whole time and you didn't tell me,"

"Of course I knew," she spit out, "I had to watch my sister as she went off to that freakish school and married your no-good father. Our parents adored her, didn't see the truth about what she was,"

"You told me they were drunks!" he yelled, "Did they even die in a car crash, or were you lying about that too?"

"They got themselves blown up, like they deserved," she stated smugly.

"Why the bloody hell did you lie to me?"

"We thought that maybe we could beat it out of you. Of course it didn't work, you're just as freakish as they were," Harry stood there in shock and anger, not knowing what to say. After all those years of being called a freak, he finally knew why they hated him so much and that his parents weren't drunks like he feared. They were probably good people who loved him.

"There's a school?" he asked after a minute, backtracking in their argument.

"Yeah, they'll probably send you a letter once your eleven," Aunt Petunia glared at him, but seemed resigned to answering some of his questions now that she'd let out the secret. Uncle Vernon was pointedly ignoring their conversation and watching tv.

"How many…" he started, unsure of what they were called, "of us are there?" he finally ended.

"Witches," she spat out as if it were a curse, "and wizards," the words seemed almost painful for her to say, "And there's too many of them. There's a whole town or something somewhere in London. Diagonal Alley or something."

Aunt Petunia seemed to decide she was done answering questions after that and walked away, but Harry was fine with that. His head was spinning with everything that had happened today. His parents weren't drunks, witches and wizards existed, he wasn't a freak, there was a school. He went back to his cupboard to think.

There were also people that seemed to want to kill him.

OoOoOoO

A week later things were relatively normal again. Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon were pretending the conversation had never happened and Dudley knew nothing. They glanced out the window a lot more than normal though, probably making sure there were no 'freaks' outside. They hadn't seen anyone yet.

As for Harry, he still hadn't gone outside. That man knew where he lived and he had a feeling they were still looking for him, especially considering that weird dream he had. His Aunt and Uncle probably thought it was weird, but since they were pretending nothing had happened, they were mostly ignoring it. As long as he was out of their way they didn't care where he was.

He had started trying to practice magic in his cupboard, but he couldn't really figure it out. Just wishing for something didn't work, and he didn't really know how that apparating thing worked either, even though he had done it twice. He also couldn't figure out how he knew what it was called, the word just came to him.

He had been trying last night to change a pair of socks into an apple, because he was starving, but it didn't work. Maybe he should start with something smaller? He didn't know how magic worked or what you could do with it except that it was possible to move from place to place and shoot lights out of a stick that caused pain. He had also turned his teachers hair blue once, so he could change colors. He decided to start with that.

Taking an old pair of socks out, he started trying to wish they were blue. It would be a much better color that the worn-out grey that they were now. Nothing happened for a few minutes. Instead of wishing, he started trying to picture them being blue. Nothing happened. He sighed, maybe he could only do it when he was in danger? After a few more minutes of glaring at the sock, it was still grey and he was starting to get a headache. He really wanted to be able to do magic!

Later that night Harry was lying in bed, disappointed that his sock was still grey when he felt a strange tingling go through his body. It only lasted a few seconds, but it was a weird feeling and it made him sit up. He had never felt anything like it before. A few seconds later he heard the front door creak open slowly and he froze. What if it was that man again?

Terrified that he was about to die, Harry listened silently, hoping he was imagining things. He heard a pair of footsteps walk in and stop right in front of his cupboard, a second and third pair joined them a few seconds later. Harry held his breath and was relieved when they walked away into the kitchen. A second later they were back, but this time they walked up the stairs. His relatives were up there!

Harry started panicking, they were probably looking for him, which meant he could sneak away now and leave them with his Aunt, Uncle and Cousin, or he could distract them and keep them away from his relatives. He hated his relatives, but he didn't want them to die for him. The problem was that he didn't know if the mysterious people were going to kill them. If they weren't going to, then he should sneak out before they found him.

A few seconds later he heard Aunt Petunia scream, a scream that was cut off almost immedietly. Realizing he had waited too long and there was nothing he could do to help them, he fled. He snuck of out his cupboard as quietly as possible and darted out the open front door, sprinting down the block. He paused at the corner, unsure where to go. Glancing back at the house, he saw smoke billowing out his Aunt and Uncles window. He turned and ran.

Twenty minutes later he collapsed against a building, exhausted. He didn't know where he was, just that he was far away from Privet Drive. Tears leaked out of his eyes as he realized his relatives were most likely dead because of him. He should have left when Uncle Vernon told him to. He felt himself shaking as he sobbed, emotions whirling through him faster than he could process them. Fear, sadness, anger, relief, guilt.

After a long time he stopped crying and crawled into an alleyway next to the building. Bringing his knees up to his chest, he curled up against the wall and hugged himself. He was lost and confused and had nowhere to go. His only family was dead because he was a coward and ran away. As he felt himself falling asleep he made himself a promise. He would get stronger. No one would ever die because of him again.

_How was it? Good? Bad? Reviews are awesome!_


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